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She, too, was gazing at the window, but not as though she really saw it. Her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face.

“Just thinking…” she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window.

“About Siri—Snuffles?” said Harry.

“No… not exactly…” said Hermione slowly. “More… wondering… I suppose we’re doing the right thing… I think… aren’t we?”

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

“Well, that clears that up,” said Ron. “It would’ve been really annoying if you hadn’t explained yourself properly.”

Hermione looked at him as though she had only just realised he was there.

“I was just wondering,” she said, her voice stronger now, “whether we’re doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group.”

“What?” said Harry and Ron together.

“Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!” said Ron indignantly.

“I know,” said Hermione, twisting her fingers together. “But after talking to Snuffles…”

“But he’s all for it,” said Harry.

“Yes,” said Hermione, staring at the window again. “Yes, that’s what made me think maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all…”

Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed.

“Let’s get this straight,” said Harry angrily, as they put their bags back on the floor, “Sirius agrees with us, so you don’t think we should do it any more?”

Hermione looked tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands, she said, “Do you honestly trust his judgement?”

“Yes, I do!” said Harry at once. “He’s always given us great advice!”

An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. Hermione watched Katie leap to her feet and start throwing things at Peeves; it was a few moments before Hermione spoke again and it sounded as though she was choosing her words very carefully.

“You don’t think he has become… sort of… reckless… since he’s been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don’t think he’s… kind of… living through us?”

“What d’you mean, “living through us”?” Harry retorted.

“I mean… well, I think he’d love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry… I think he’s really frustrated at how little he can do where he is… so I think he’s keen to kind of… egg us on.”

Ron looked utterly perplexed.

“Sirius is right,” he said, “you do sound just like my mother.”

Hermione bit her lip and did not answer. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head.

* * *

The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so that at seven o’clock that evening, when Harry and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, they were soaked through within minutes, their feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The sky was a deep, thundery grey and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if they knew the respite was only temporary. They found Fred and George debating whether to use one of their own Skiving Snackboxes to get out of flying.

“…but I bet she’d know what we’d done,” Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. “If only I hadn’t offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday.”

“We could try the Fever Fudge,” George muttered, “no one’s seen that yet—”

“Does it work?” enquired Ron hopefully, as the hammering of rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building.

“Well, yeah,” said Fred, “your temperature’ll go right up.”

“But you get these massive pus-filled boils, too,” said George, “and we haven’t worked out how to get rid of them yet.”

“I can’t see any boils,” said Ron, staring at the twins.

“No, well, you wouldn’t,” said Fred darkly, “they’re not in a place we generally display to the public.”

“But they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the—”

“All right, everyone, listen up,” said Angelina loudly, emerging from the Captain’s office. “I know it’s not ideal weather, but there’s a chance we’ll be playing Slytherin in conditions like this so it’s a good idea to work out how we’re going to cope with them. Harry, didn’t you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?”

“Hermione did it,” said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, “Impervius!”

“I think we all ought to try that,” said Angelina. “If we could just keep the rain off our faces it would really help visibility—all together, come on—Impervius! OK. Let’s go.”

Читайте також:

1. A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black’s face. Hermione fell silent.
2. A grin flashed across Sirius’s thin face.
3. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings.
4. A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.
5. A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
6. A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Sirius’s mother that hung in the hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into Harry’s mind. “I bet there has,” he said.
7. After glancing once at this portrait, Professor McGonagall made an odd movement as though steeling herself, then rounded the desk to look at Harry, her face taut and lined.
8. All three of them raised their wands again, but none of them struck: they were all gazing, open-mouthed, appalled, at what was happening to the man’s head.
9. An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione’s face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair.
10. And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it.
11. And he looked eagerly around as though hoping to see a signpost.
12. And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforth’s face.

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